The Pleasure of Pain
by electricsymphony
Summary: Dreams are true while they last, and do we not live in dreams? Someone is trying to send an important message to Jeremy, but the way they go about it is slightly unorthodox.


_Dreams are true while they last, and do we not live in dreams?_

- Alfred, Lord Tennyson (The Higher Pantheism)

He rapidly searched his mind for any information on himself or his whereabouts. His conscience was grasping for anything that was comforting, any clue that might unlock secrets about this unfamiliar place. The brisk wind grew increasingly colder as the soft light of day turned to dusk. If there was any civilization near, there was no note of it in the surrounding wilderness. He continued to walk in no particular direction, blissfully unaware of a time, place or even his own identity. As he ventured on, the trees above him and leaves underneath him became more infrequent. There was an outline of a building in the corner of his eye, only visible through the fog if he cocked his head a certain way. He knew in order to satisfy his curiosity about this strange new venture, he needed to see something beyond these seemingly endless pathways.

He had only an unreliable idea of how to measure time, so he was unaware of whether it was five minutes or an hour before he reached the building in the far off distance. He realized it was just wishful thinking to believe this building might spark a memory of consequence. As far as he could tell, this building held no significance to him. It was not until a short, balding man in a light grey suit hastened down the front steps that it occurred to him he might be trespassing. In an effort to conceal his presence, he slipped beneath a nearby bush, his eyes still dead set on the new arrival.

"Mr. Jonathon, sir!" The man was now running at an even faster speed now, past the horse drawn carriage stationed in front of the house and through the grassy exterior where a middle-aged man sporting a beard and a top hat was mounting his horse. The young man kneeling behind the bush was startled at the sight of this new enigma and strained to hear any part of their conversation. The first man was catching his breath while the second—presumably Mr. Jonathon—turned his attention away from his horse. "Mr. Salvatore sent me to give you this, sir. You had forgotten it in the drawing room."

Mr. Jonathon eyed the piece of parchment in his companion's hands and snatched it hastily, shoving it into his coat pocket. "I would prefer Mr. Gilbert, if you don't mind." He dismissed the shorter man with a wave of his hand, negating the need for a response. The eavesdropping young man was so taken aback by the familiarity of the name Gilbert that he did not notice the departure of the first man. Gilbert. He whispered the name into thin air, astonished at the ease of which it flowed from his mouth. Another name followed the first just as quickly, this time with much more force. Jeremy. "Jeremy Gilbert." Within seconds of whispering the name, he knew it to be true. If this was his name, he must be acquainted with the man Jonathon on the horse. In a split second decision, he rushed out from behind the bush to catch the attention of Jonathon Gilbert. Just as quickly he was violently pulled back into the brush.

It took him a moment to realize what had just happened, and stood to compose himself. He was no longer alone. "Who's there?" The words escaped his mouth, but he hadn't meant to say a word. There wasn't a trace of life among any of the trees, but he was sure he couldn't have imagined that. He heard the faint sound of laughter coming from his right. It was so soft and dulcet that he barely heard it against the swishing of the leaves.

"Young, defenseless Jeremy," the soft—unmistakably female—voice echoed. He felt the nagging suspicion in the back of his mind that this voice was just as familiar as the name Gilbert had been. Still, no sign of the person the voice belonged to. He started to back out of the woods, poised to run as fast as his legs would carry him. He had barely reached grassy footing when he felt the presence of a hand on his shoulder. Before he could react, he was turned face to face with his attacker. And he could barely control his reaction.

"Elena?" He wasn't sure where the name had come from, but as soon as it escaped his lips a flood of facts penetrated his mind. He was Jeremy Gilbert, of 2104 Maple Street, Mystic Falls, Virginia. He was born on August 16th, 1994. And he was positive the girl in front of him was his sister, Elena. But upon further inspection, he realized it couldn't be. Her smile was too fake, and her eyes were too dark. Not to mention the elaborate Civil War Era dress she adorned.

The Elena imposter smiled wickedly and placed her hand on his shoulder, giving him a cold chill down the back of his spine. "Young, defenseless Jeremy," she repeated, her voice still soft, sweet and very fake, "What _have _you gotten yourself into this time?" He stared at her blankly, not being able to process all this new information so quickly. His breath quickened, and she noticed his vulnerability in an instant. "Do you recognize this place?" He shook his head, the ability to use his voice far gone. She advanced even closer now, and they were nearly inches apart. "Do you know who I am?" It was only a whisper, but it was still audible. He barely moved at all this time, neither confirming nor disproving her theory. "Yes, you do." The abrupt statement startled him. She backed away, allowing him to look at her once more.

She didn't speak for a few moments. His mind was a blank slate, trying to remember anything useful. He couldn't recall anything, until she snapped at him abruptly. The dulcet, soft tones she had used earlier were gone and she no longer held the falsely sweet smile between her lips. It only took the slightest expression of annoyance on her face to trigger the memories he needed. He staggered backwards the moment he realized the situation he was in. The sweet, demure girl in front of him was anything but. She was his sister's double, her vampire ancestor and truth be told made his blood boil. Her face twisted into a satisfied smile, laughing at his sudden reaction to her true identity. "Katherine," he whispered, his voice low and guarded. "Why are you here?" With the realization of who he was, the surrounding area seemed even stranger. "Where is here?"

"Unimportant," she stated firmly, leading him further down the path. He was reluctant to accept any help from her, but he came to the startling realization that she was the most comforting presence he had. She continued without pause, her voice now seeming quick and urgent. "What do you remember from before you woke up here?"

"Nothing," he answered honestly, "I could hardly recall my own name."

She did not seem as surprised as he thought she would. "I will make this quick then. You must return to Mystic Falls as promptly as your situation allows you. The best decision was not to send you away, but I am hardly surprised by your sister's clear lack of common sense." Jeremy was not aware that he had ever left Mystic Falls—his most recent memories were quite foggy. Katherine continued, however, either unaware or uninterested in Jeremy's confusion. "If Stefan has indeed succeeded with my demands, it will set Klaus on a path of vengeance. Underneath his exterior, he's an immature child. Child's play is what he does best. He'll do anything for what Stefan has." She finally took a pause, and her voice became increasingly quieter. "How far does loyalty go, Jeremy? Tell me, I know nothing of it."

"I don't understand," Jeremy answered, "My loyalty goes much further than yours, Katherine."

She laughed, amusement dancing her eyes. "I haven no question of that. My question is only how far? There is one answer, Jeremy. Klaus will not back down until he's hurt her—substantially. Once he's succeeded, his guard will be down. Perhaps, after the body of her beloved brother falls at his feet."

Jeremy could not conceal how stunned he was by what he had heard. "Are you asking me to-"

She did not allow for him to continue. "Are you willing to die for her, Jeremy?" He did not answer. "It is a simple question, I'm sure. And your answer can be no, if that is how you feel."

"I am," he responded, exuding the confidence his answer made him feel. "There are those who care about other people besides themselves, Katherine."

"Your incessant insults to my character do not make you appear stronger in comparison, nor do they achieve your desired affect on me, Jeremy." He did not condone her snippy comment with an answer, but it looked as though she wasn't waiting for one. "I've told you what you need to know. What you do with that information is no longer my problem." She turned away from him and began to walk back towards the dirt road. He hesitated, wondering if he should call out to her. He was struck by the overwhelming need to understand this strange experience.

"Is this a dream?" She stopped, but did not turn to face him. "Yes, of course—it has to be. You aren't here, you can't be here."

It was a moment before she responded. "Some may consider this a dream, Jeremy, yes." She continued on the dirt path, but Jeremy was now growing afraid. This place was new to him, and it seemed to grow darker for every step she took away from him. He started after her, but for every few feet he gained she gained a few more. He knew he was acting rash and impulsive, but her face was the only comforting thing for miles. He knew rationally that it was not Elena he was chasing, but all rational thought had left his mind in a state of full out panic. His steps grew quicker until he was in a full sprint towards her. It was no use, she was gone. He stopped to catch his breath, and couldn't miss the eerie sound of her voice, once again soft and gentle, carrying with the breeze. "But what makes you think I'm not here?"

Jeremy bolted upright, sweat encompassing his entire body. It took a few moments for him to realize where he was. It all came flooding back to him. He was in Denver, with Gilbert family friends John and Michelle Phillips. He glanced at the clock on his bedside table and sighed. 2:47. He had no recollection of what he had been doing before this. When the door opened abruptly, his heart quickened, unsure who he was expecting to see. The son Austin nervously entered the room, and Jeremy hastened to make it look like he hadn't been sleeping.

"Did you have someone up here with you?" The question caught Jeremy entirely off guard. Seeing Jeremy's confusion, Austin elaborated. "You came up here for a nap a few hours ago, but I could've sworn I heard footsteps and a women's voice in here. What happened?"

Jeremy did not answer. He pushed past Austin and ran down the stairs, desperate to get away from this house for just a moment. He opened the front door and darted past the front yard, unable to make coherent thoughts other than his desire to run. He sincerely hoped his nagging suspicion was wrong, and that Katherine was far away in some foreign country with no connection to him or this town. He knelt down on the sidewalk, buried his head in his arms and listened to the calming sounds of cars passing by, eager to forget everything he had just experienced.


End file.
